004 Dark
by southernveggie
Summary: Theme 4 of the 100 Theme Challenge! :D "Tears welled into his eyes; a lot of his people didn't have whiskey to stave off the pain… Was it selfish of him to drink it to thin down his own?"


America threw his arm over his eyes, his room was completely pitch black, but his head was pounding and it was reflexive to block out light; even if it wasn't there.

He felt terrible, numb, not a spark of his usual cheery optimism was left.

His body was so thin that you could clearly see his ribs; he felt the same hopeless hunger pains that the rest of his people were feeling. The worst part of it was not knowing when things would get better…if they would get better. A bitter sob escaped him, this was all so dark and terrible; how had this happened? The other countries were blaming him for their nations being in the same state, but how was it his fault? He hadn't wanted this…he didn't even know how it had happened.

With a soft groan, he rolled to his side and crawled to the edge of the bed; leaning over, he fished a bottle of whiskey out from underneath.

He knew this was a pathetic way to deal with his depression, but everything just felt so wrong, so bad…hopeless. What could he do?

There was nothing to do, but wait it out.

Taking a swig of the liquor, he gasped a bit as it burned down his throat and into the pit of his empty, thin, and starving stomach. Tears welled into his eyes; a lot of his people didn't have whiskey to stave off the pain…

Was it selfish of him to drink it to thin down his own?

Sighing, he took another sip; he didn't know, but he'd go crazy if he didn't have the stuff…because without it…he would be alone with his guilt, his pain, their pain… He wouldn't be able to stand it, he'd go crazy.

He loved his people so much and it killed him that this had happened…this, what was it they called it? The Great Depression?

He supposed that's how he was feeling…depressed. Did depression feel like this awful numbness? This dark and blank feeling? Wondering if you'd ever get better, or if you'd just fade away into nothing? How many times had he gone to bed with an aching heart, a pounding head, an empty belly, and wished that it would be the last time he shut his eyes?

He sobbed again, when had he become this weak? This pathetic?

Why couldn't he just cheer up and smile like he used to?

What was wrong with him?

And then there was that commie bastard…

Flaunting the fact that his own people were fine, well-fed, and happily employed.

His people didn't have to go home and tell their children that there wouldn't be any dinner that night, or that Daddy still couldn't find a new job.

He had never hated anyone as much as he hated Russia right now.

And he felt like the other countries had never disliked him as much as they did now.

Dissolving into miserable sobs, he tried to piece together something, anything to do; he desperately needed a change from this. After taking a few gulps of whiskey, he thought about calling up Russia and telling him off.

He thought about calling up the other countries and telling them that they were right, he was an idiot and it was his fault that their people were hungry too, but he knew it was a lie. This was all tied up with monetary loss from the war.

It wasn't any one person's fault. Right? Right?

"It's not my fault!" he found himself screaming again and again.

Running to the window, he threw open the drapes, the sudden amount of light making him cry out with pain; sliding the window open, he looked out with bleary eyes, "It's not my fault! I'm trying to fix it! I really am!" he shouted, trying to reassure himself as much as he was anyone else.

Slamming the window shut again, he stumbled to the bathroom; last night's drinking binge had caught up with him and he felt nauseated.

Vomiting into the sink, he started sobbing again; what was he going to do?

What could he do?

He had thought war was the worse hell imaginable, but no, watching your children starve and having no way to help them was a hell like no other.

Feeling like you were to blame for it…

The numb, dark, hopeless feeling…

This was hell.


End file.
